


Playful Morning

by the_pen_is_mightier



Series: waking up to you [8]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, Kisses, M/M, Softness, They love each other, Waking Up, making breakfast, morning fic, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 11:47:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21337729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_pen_is_mightier/pseuds/the_pen_is_mightier
Summary: Crowley's eyes were wide and warm, and a silly grin stretched across his face. He was looking down at Aziraphale with an expression of such unbridled happiness that it made Aziraphale’s heart sing.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: waking up to you [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1504895
Comments: 34
Kudos: 240





	Playful Morning

**Author's Note:**

> *surfaces briefly from the dark pits of nanowrimo* hey everyone *sinks back down*

“Aziraphale.” 

Before he was aware of anything else, Aziraphale heard that voice. It reached through his sleep, gently breaking it into pieces, letting morning sunlight through. Aziraphale kept his eyes closed, wanting to lie here a little longer, to relish the warmth and darkness and peace of waking. 

“Aziraphale.” Something hard and bony poked him in the belly. Teasing, but it still hurt, and he cracked open his eyes to glare at the bed’s other occupant. 

It was, however, impossible to maintain his glare at the sight that met his eyes. Crowley was kneeling beside him, hair and silk pajamas still rumpled from sleep; his eyes were wide and warm, and a silly grin stretched across his face. He was looking down at Aziraphale with an expression of such unbridled _happiness_ that it made Aziraphale’s heart sing. 

“Good morning, dear,” he said. 

“Glad you’re up.” Crowley slithered - there was no other way to describe his movement, really, the way he seemed to make no use of his joints - up against Aziraphale’s chest, burrowed in his arms. “Give me a kiss?” 

Aziraphale huffed. “Did you wake me up for that?”

“I need it. I’m making you breakfast and I need something to keep me going.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, but there was no malice in the gesture. Already he was working to suppress a smile. It wasn’t unusual for Crowley to simply announce he was making breakfast, these days. Aziraphale knew better than to protest. “Oh, I suppose I could find it in my heart to help you.” 

“Hm. Such a nice angel.” Crowley turned his face up, eyes shut. 

Aziraphale kissed him briefly on the forehead. When Crowley’s eyes opened again, a frown creasing between his brows, Aziraphale sat back against his pillows and folded his arms. “There’s your kiss, you wily serpent.”

“Oh, come on,” Crowley grumbled. “Another one?” 

“If I kiss you again before you get up I won’t be able to resist cuddling you for the rest of the morning - and then, may I ask, where would breakfast be?” 

Crowley made a sound that might have been meant as a growl - it was hard to tell with Crowley - but came out a little too pleased to count. Then he clambered out of Aziraphale’s embrace, off the bed, and shuffled toward the door. 

“I’m getting that kiss later,” he warned.

Aziraphale smiled as he watched Crowley’s back turn and disappear. He liked being playful with Crowley; he liked Crowley’s affectionate little glares and his toothless jabs. He’d always been so afraid of talking to people in Heaven, but Crowley was just so _easy_ to talk to, so harmless in his banter, so unthreatening in his tone. It had always been a kind of refuge for him, but these days that refuge was an unlimited resource, no longer curbed by the fear that it put this playful, gentle soul in danger. 

He conjured up a book to read while he waited. Crowley didn’t take long. 

The aroma of freshly made waffles reached his nose first. Aziraphale shut his eyes and breathed it in as Crowley’s footsteps approached - he smelled soft, steaming dough and warm syrup and strawberries. When he opened his eyes Crowley was there, that bright, pleased grin back on his face, carrying a tray on which the mountainous plate of waffles teetered dangerously. Positioning it on the nightstand next to Aziraphale, he set a mug of coffee down next to the plate. Aziraphale’s mouth watered.

“Oh, my dear boy,” he said, breathless. “That looks delicious.” 

“You want to dig in?”

Aziraphale nodded.

Crowley’s grin turned mischievous. He bent down close to Aziraphale’s face. “Well, then - you’ve got to pay.” 

Ah, so he was still determined to get his kiss. Aziraphale smiled his sweetest smile, meeting Crowley’s eyes with all the adoration he could muster. Crowley dropped the impish look as his gaze melted into softness; as Aziraphale leaned closer, as well, until their foreheads nearly brushed, Crowley gave a little sigh of pleasure.

“Angel,” he murmured. 

“Here’s your payment,” Aziraphale said, “for being such a kind demon.” 

And he pulled away, hand flourishing behind Crowley’s ear to remove a large silver coin. 

Crowley’s jaw dropped. He stared from the coin to Aziraphale, looking so shocked that at last Aziraphale broke and began giggling; Crowley’s face went red, he kept up a wobbling scowl for a full three seconds, and then he flung himself unceremoniously into Aziraphale’s lap, wrapping his arms tight around Aziraphale’s middle and burying his face into his stomach.

“Oof.” Aziraphale shifted from the weight of him. “Oh, you ridiculous thing.” 

“You love me,” said Crowley, sounding petulant.

“You love _me._” 

“_You_ love _me._” 

_“You love me.”_

“I love you.” 

Aziraphale didn’t snap back a response to that. He looked down at Crowley instead, still curled in his lap, still mercilessly cuddling his waist. Tenderness surged through him suddenly, and he ran his fingers softly through Crowley’s still-unkempt hair, feeling the texture of it, the silkiness. 

“Oh, darling,” he said. “I love you too.” 

Crowley’s face lifted; he smirked, but his response was just as tender. “I know.” 

They stayed beside each other as Aziraphale ate; he managed to cajole Crowley into taking a few bites of the waffles he’d made, though he insisted he wasn’t hungry. They stayed there far into the morning, teasing each other when their faces got messy, butting shoulders and laughing, deep in their stomachs, in the way that two beings laugh when their lives are calm and complete. They cuddled close to each other and exchanged kiss after kiss, unasked, unprompted. And they loved.

**Author's Note:**

> Like my content? Find me on tumblr @[whatawriterwields](https://whatawriterwields.tumblr.com)!


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